Pilgrimage
by rese
Summary: Jo begins to learn the meaning of life.
1. Chapter 1

**Pilgrimage**

_A/N: I don't own Little Women or its characters. I wrote this last night after getting frustrated with my writing skills and thinking about the washing-up. Hope you likey. More to come._

…

Jo sighed, dragging the last baking dish to the side of the sink, hot soapy water dripping its way everywhere. She rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead tiredly before flicking the rest of the water off her hands as the drain gurgled, sucking the water down where she'd removed the plug earlier. Looking out the window as she pulled the cloth from her apron pocket she began to dry the evening's dishes, musing on the mellowness of the sun's setting light as darkness was thrown across the lawn.

Footsteps fell across the stone floor of the kitchen and Jo relaxed as a pair of arms slipped around her, warm breath wisping the ends of her hair behind her ear. Any other night she might have stepped out of his embrace and scolded the boy of a man for not helping out as he should but Jo found her throat was thick with emotion she'd rather not think of as the last light of the day slipped over the fence.

"Want some help?"

Jo nodded in response, not trusting her voice when his arms disappeared and his fingers brushed hers instead, taking the plate she had been drying from her hands. Jo kept her eyes on the window lest they slip to his and the careful quietness she'd built all day fell apart.

She picked up another plate knowing not what to do with it when Laurie had the only cloth for drying she hadn't burnt on the oven. Holding it uselessly with knuckles as white as the bone that almost poked through Jo watched the greens and yellows of the day morph into the pinky-purples of their nightly counterparts. She wished she could feel the usual settling of her mind but something remained rod-straight in her soul tonight and she could barely swallow for ease when the hushed blue of night tugged across the sky, lighting stars she'd rather not search for.

Laurie took the plate and she foolishly looked across. The cloth was cradled across his palms as he turned the porcelain carefully, his eyes safely on the job and Jo was thankful though she said nothing. She picked up the first plate and bent to place it in the cupboard, repeating the task as all the dishes were dried. Laurie's hands were soon empty and she had barely time to close the window and hear the click of the latch before she felt the string of her apron's tie being pulled loose. Laurie undid the difficult knot with greater ease than she intended when she'd donned it at eleven and he was peeling it off her shoulders, throwing it to one of the chairs, tugging her closer.

She wished he wouldn't but Jo didn't stop him and when he turned her around and folded her in his absurdly warm embrace she even leant her head into his shoulder taking a deep breath. His scent was fresh from the heather he'd rolled in after lunch, Demi's questing fingers picking the soft itchy flowers over the tall man's head as he lay on his chest. Jo closed her eyes, telling herself it was okay to be a little selfish, just a little and let Laurie hold her in the kitchen when John was waiting in her father's study.

"Teddy," she croaked when minutes passed and her arm had inadvertently found its way around his back. Laurie's arms tightened in response and Jo rubbed her cheek against him, feeling as though it might actually be possible just for once for his strength to seep through into her.

Maybe then she could face John without her traitorous eyes filling with tears. If she could look at him without her heart breaking then – Jo felt an inescapable sob hiccup its way out and she gripped Laurie a little closer.

His cheek brushed the crown of her head and she squeezed her eyes shut, sorry she let it go so far. He was cracking her carefully constructed shell and she wouldn't survive much longer. Another sob escaped at that and she clamped her jaw tighter to stop any more, shame turning her limbs to shaky jelly. She fisted the hand on his back in a great deal of his linen shirt and before she knew it Jo was crying in Laurie's crushing hold.

"I'm," she hiccupped, burying her head in the nook between his arm and chest as she felt uncontrollable drops of the day's toll slip hotly from her eyes, even as they were scrunched tightly into his shirt-front. "Sorry."

"Oh Jo," he said in a voice infinitely understanding as he rocked them gently on the spot, feeling the signs of his own blasted tears threatening to appear in their sting. Jo lost her last mite of defence as she openly cried against him, into him thinking not of her control and ridiculous need to be the strong one but of her sister, her dear, precious, cherished Meg who lay sleeping above the river. She cried for having lost two sisters in two years and a mother's grey eyes and father's straightened beard, for a brother's only love gone and a distance unreachable between her last sister and home. She cried because she hadn't and she cried because she felt as though she might never stop.

Jo soon felt her soul clear under the murky glass that had covered it for so long. Every hot tear washed away the film and she soon saw the light behind her eyes as dull warmth instead of the heavy burden she had carried all day. Jo pulled her face from Laurie's shoulder, a few last shudders syncopating her breath as she drew back to look at her friend who continued to be the brightest, best thing in her young life.

"Thank you," she said, her hands gripping his shoulders as her ears turned red. Laurie watched her carefully, shifting his arms around her as she stood a little straighter, a little lighter than before. She couldn't say why they felt like they'd always belonged there. Jo ran her thumbs back and forth across the coarseness of his shirt, suddenly self-conscious as he watched her. A second later he kissed her cheek and she felt like she'd never have a better chum in her life and she kissed him back.

A second later she missed his cheek and hit the corner of his mouth.

A second after that he missed hers too and caught the top of her chin.

Another second and Jo's lips were pressed firmly against his and shouldn't think except to catagorise every sensation that bombarded her raw senses. His bottom lip slipped between hers and her tongue tasted its swell under the dried callous of its surface. She felt his breath across hers and her eyes fluttered shut at his lead, his tongue snaking over hers as she opened her mouth to his. This heat, she thought wildly one hand creeping its way into his thick, curly hair, is almost unbearable.

Laurie must have thought similar for his hand was soon pulling his collar free of its tie and she found herself obliging him though he backed her against the sink bench, standing snugly between her legs. Jo finally wrestled the troublesome strip of material free and flung it somewhere to the side, capturing Laurie's face with her now-free hands as she kissed him over and over until her lips burnt against his and she never felt more alive.

Meg had died two years ago to the day and yet Laurie's hands were on her hops, his lips were on her neck and she couldn't think straight for all the bursting feeling in her chest. Her heart was beating, she vaguely realised, Laurie lifting her to sit precariously on the sink's edge as he pressed himself flush against her and her entire being fizzed to life under his flushed face and black eyes. He was looking at her, right at her and Jo could see herself. All she could see in those fathomless depths that had teased and begged and cared and cried was herself and she knew that while Meg and Beth had gone, though their time had ended, hers had not and never would whilst those black eyes blinked. While her heart beat.

Jo had not ended and she was so alive.

She threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard, thanking him with every press of her lips, with every caress of her roaming hands with every breath they shared she thanked Laurie and meant it right down to her soul.

Laurie's hands clutched at her waist as he bent over her, giving as she gave, baring himself now that she finally understood everything. She was made for this she decided, her fingers caught in his hair as they kissed, her legs around his. Death was not forgotten but she would celebrate it for showing her life - that being alive only made sense in absurdist comparisons. Jo had found her father's long searched-for humanity and it was in Laurie, the way he pushed her to be more than what she settled for, in his embrace when she felt she was losing everything, it was in his very breath as it covered her skin. He'd shown her the quality of being human was in her heart that felt, not her ego and mind that demanded control. Mediocrity, solemnity and heartbreak, all she feared faded away in the resilience of the human soul and she was only sorry she hadn't seen it sooner.

She was sorry she hadn't seen how much she loved the dear man that held her that very moment.

A creak on the stairs was heard and Jo pulled away with a start.

"Don't worry," Laurie soothed, kissing her cheek as her head was turned to the next room. "The babies are put to bed and your father and mother have made peace with the night. Old Brooke is to Dovecote – we are alone." Jo turned back and Laurie stepped between her again. "And I love you," he gushed, the silliest of grins spreading across his twenty-something face. Promises were blooming in that wide smile and long-held wishes finally realised were laid openly for Jo to see. She held his face and kissed him very seriously.

If she should live and die and love and fight only within these walls then Jo would declare it a life well lived.

Jo leant into Laurie as she felt his right hand disappear only to find it crawling up her left leg, pulling with it her skirt. Suddenly a nervousness she'd felt when he watched her wordlessly after crying settled over her and she twitched under his hands, thoughts of propriety popping into her head. What were they doing!? Jo's hands flew to cover her mouth as Laurie continued shamelessly with his hand now warm against her thigh. Jo watched him wide-eyed as he cocked an eyebrow at her and hooked her skirt to her waist, pushing the material backwards into the sink. His hands were on her petticoats and Jo's face was afire with mortification when he winked at her and leaned in to nuzzle her neck.

Certainly it felt nice but were they really doing this now? Here? In her family's kitchen? Where they ate for heaven's sake! Jo moved her hands from cupping her mouth to sit on Laurie's tall shoulders as she pushed him up. Laurie's eyes met hers and he straightened instantly an old look of disappointment crossing his stance. His arms hung uselessly at his side, his left index pawing at the counter beside her thigh.

"I thought…" he began tapping the wooden bench before letting his fist fall by his side and he removed his right hand from Jo's top petticoat.

"Not here," she begged for him to understand, her hands coming to rest on his collar.

Laurie nodded but she could see she'd hurt him.

"Teddy…"

"I understand," he said a little quickly, kissing her forehead. Laurie pulled the length of her skirt out of the deep sink, back over her knees before he walked about the room blowing the candles out pausing only to pick up his tie.

Jo sat on the edge a moment longer. Now I've done it, she thought crossly jumping down to help her poor boy, stopping him in the door when they'd finished.

She stood on her toes but only reached his collar and Laurie had to bend down in the dark to receive her kiss. "For your trouble," she said when she pulled away, the softness of his mouth seared into her memory like the heat of his long fingers.

"Jo," he groaned lowly, her name a warning. "If you do not want me I have to leave now" his head turned under her hands and he pressed a small kiss into her palm. "If I don't I'm afraid I'll never go and we shall do something you'll regret."

"Please understand," she implored, making him think of lunch when she'd made him take the twins from Brooke. "Meg is gone –" His jaw tightened but she ploughed on. "This is her day Laurie and we should preserve it by remembering her not –" she coloured hotly in the shadowy doorway.

"You remember her every day."

Jo pulled her hands away and looked to her left, her gaze falling on the chair by the wash bay. She'd burnt Meg's hair in that chair. Something scurried its way from her chest to her throat. Why did her eyes sting?

"Jo," Laurie's hands were on her stomach before he stepped closer. "You won't forget her." She blinked her eyes rapidly but the sting only worsened and Jo wished it was darker.

"I just want this one day for her, Teddy."

"So you'll forget happiness? You know Meg would rather you spend your life living it Jo, she wouldn't want you to suspend every other thing you feel, anything else you think of - even for a day! She was never that selfish Jo. I can't believe you would ever think that."

Jo's head whipped back to Laurie and she stepped out of his reach into the darker part of the kitchen. She'd been wrong ever thinking Laurie would ever understand her.

"Goodnight, Laurie."

She saw him frown at her frosty tone in the hall's dull light as it spilled across his form. He seemed to battle with himself a moment and she watched him struggle to find the right words.

"What?" she said at last.

"It's just," Laurie shook his head thinking better of it and he turned to the hallway only to stop two steps later. "Don't you think Meg would want you to be happy today of all days?" he threw over his shoulder, tapping the doorway twice in consideration before he left the room. Jo listened for the front door and when she finally heard it swing shut she looked about the kitchen feeling worse than before and terribly alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Jo ran down the road stumbling as tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. It couldn't be – not Meg! She ran faster, not caring as the pins in her hair ripped through, nicking her scalp and flying to the brush that lined the road. The faster she ran the easier it was to see and she was soon racing through the glen, over the brook and to the Walden's fencing posts. She ran past them up the path and back onto the road.

Her chest was afire and her legs ached fiercely but still she ran right up to the gate, pushing it open and cursing when it swung back at the force and caught the side of her head. Holding the throbbing brow she fumbled on, tears falling freely down her face. She wrenched open the door, ignoring her father's call as she climbed the steps two at a time, almost three before she slipped and grazed her shin. Picking herself up she clutched her head and hopped up the rest of the way until at last she reached the garret. Jo tore open the door, letting the lock click shut behind her as she dived for the sofa and cried her heart out.

It couldn't be. It wasn't true. It wasn't happening.

Meg was dead.


	3. Chapter 3

The buttons of her dress popped easily enough and Jo shimmied herself free of the material, letting it fall harmlessly to the floor of her bedroom. Without a sound she dug for her nightshirt, undoing the clasps of her camisole with one hand. Slipping two petticoats off at once she reached across the table and blew out the candle ready to cap the night and this whole day. She pulled the cotton shirt over her head, the rasp of the fabric calling unbidden thoughts of Laurie's hands on her skin.

Shutting her eyes Jo sat on her bed not ready to say her prayers when she knew the light was still on in another's house. Pulling her knees to her chin she risked a look for that flickering candle in her neighbour's window and was rewarded with its distant glow through the branches. Jo sighed to herself knowing she had likely said and done the wrong thing again.

She could barely remember fearing his looks all those years ago.

Jo glanced at the empty bed beside hers and swallowed the lump in her throat. God had tested her greatly of late and she wasn't sure He was entirely right about it. How would taking her sisters strengthen her faith and fortify her against the wills of temptation? She felt a harrowing in her soul where she had danced only an hour ago for her part in His creation. Jo had tried not to question His choices but when they left her so raw and hopelessly alone she had to wonder quietly why God had done such a thing and why she failed to see the answer. She couldn't ask Teddy when he'd all but blamed Him for the sorrows in her life when they'd talked quietly in the garret. '_He keeps taking and taking and you say nothing as if it's all alright. But it's not Jo and I can't love him for it like you do, so please; don't ask me._'

Looking back at the candlelight she wondered just what it was he did so late. It was hardly a known ritual between them but Jo had come to count on the sight of Laurie's light before she blew out her own and shut her eyes to the world. She knew nothing of his own side to the nightly routine and when the candle suddenly went out Jo blinked dumbly in its place. She strained to catch sight of another light but only felt the surrounding darkness press about her. Jo closed her eyes as she felt icy fingers touch her body, the overwhelming shadow of the room swirling around her as she sat alone. It was alright when she knew Laurie was still awake but when the light went out and Jo was not asleep her room filled with ghouls and ghosts she'd fancied in jest as a child and grew to know as truth with her sisters' passing. She swallowed, hugging her legs a little tighter when the scratch of the tree on her window startled her witless. Jo jumped off her bed, stopping only to pick up her discarded dressing gown, pulling it around her as she strode out of the horrid room.

She stared at the door she shut noiselessly with disdain. There would be no sleep for her there tonight. Jo looked to the stairs considering another option she had only taken sparingly in past. He had always offered but she'd felt it wholly improper only now when the all-consuming darkness of her bedroom and the whispers of her sisters-long-gone did she even think of it.

Pulling her gown about her tightly she marched down the stairs unable to stand about in the hall facing that dreadful room any longer. Soon she was closing the front door with great care so as not to wake anyone before she hurried down the path and jumped the fence between her yard and Laurie's. Jo knew she was breaking every social code and convention, not to mention her very own personal rules she had only just laid down with good reason in the kitchen.

And hadn't Laurie proven just how well he didn't understand her?

Jo stopped her long legs mid-step. She was being silly – her bedroom wasn't filled with ghostly shadows, only the sinister oppression of her lonely thoughts. Oh she was alone! She shivered in the cool spring night, the filmy cotton of her nightclothes insufficient when a light breeze whipped around her.

What was she doing? Had she gone mad; standing in the Laurence's yard in the dark of night in naught but her pyjamas when she had just bid Laurie leave? Thinking of the terrifying darkness waiting for her by Beth's long-empty bed Jo turned back to the Laurence's house. If she really was going mad she'd rather not be alone anyway.

She needed him, always had and shivering she went on.

Climbing the trellis to the upstairs hall window she felt splinters stick her hands and feet, Jo knew the window was kept open – she'd seen Laurie climb it many a time having kept too late and scrambling to avoid a lecture – and she prayed it was one without a lock for having climbed to the top there was no way down. Counting her blessings the glass opened without force and she wormed her way through landing light on her feet on the carpet train.

Jo silently padded her way to Laurie's room thinking not of the boy within by of her eldest sister. Meg would have had the fit of her life if she'd known what Jo was doing, the girl thought for once a mischievous smile twitching at her lips where sadness was wont to linger. She had wanted this day for her dear sister because as Laurie had guessed, she was worried she was forgetting gentle Meg. Time moved on without her presence and only childish features on her babies' heads served to remind Jo of Meg's soft eyes or the curl of her brown hair. She worried when they had grown she would replace the picture of Meg in her mind with a bumbling collage of John's nose and their aunt's dimpled chin from her children's inherited collation. Conversations she'd shared with her sister were loosing their clarity, Jo could no longer quote Meg's reaction to her soiled gloves, the third pair and it worried her so much she felt it was a worm eating through her belly. Jo paused, her hand against the offending muscles as she stared at Laurie's closed door. Suppose he locked it?

She brought to mind Meg's face when she'd written a particularly jolly piece on pies and boys and she'd handed the paper over whispering that if Meg was to have children they would be just so. She'd hoped with all her heart her sister would know what she meant. Meg had read the piece with a solemn face – her thumbs pale against the pretty-scented parchment. Jo waited patiently, her head on Meg's knee and when her doe-eyed sister turned her gaze upon her she smiled so sweetly that Jo imagined nothing closer to the holiest of mothers.

'Don't you think?'

'Oh my Jo,' Meg had thrown her arms around her sister and cried – 'Just so!'

Jo had always known Meg to be emotional but it was her tenderness that leant such unconditional compassion and beauty of spirit. She'd returned the embrace grateful Meg had understood the gift and the honest hope for the little bump swelling under her pinafore.

Jo swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. She'd really done it now! Thinking of Meg when she resolved to go to Laurie and here she was crying at his door! Jo kicked herself, pinching her arm contritely.

She would not forget Meg, not with memories like that and she was a fool for even thinking it for a second. She kept those memories locked tightly to her heart, sparing them only to commit to fading paper that sat in the last chest in a row of four with two short letters branded across its top. Jo would not forget but she could no longer deny the happy light she had found in such a dark valley of her life.

Jo took a deep breath turning the door knob and entered his room.

_A/N: this will make more sense/seem more acceptable in a few chapters, guys. Just go with me for now._


	4. Chapter 4

A great unearthly cry echoed through the house and Jo feared she was too late – the baby had come and she was missing it all!

Tripping over her skirt for the fifth time since she'd ran out of Orchard House for the Dovecote Jo managed to bumble her way into the small house with her heart somewhat higher than its rightful place. Marmee had gone ahead with Hannah the night before but when the clock chimed three in the morning Jo had stumbled home for sleep knowing the child would arrive well and good when she woke up. Poor Meg had no such luxury and Jo quickly realised it was her cries that filled Dovecote so strangely.

Jo slowed her step in the hall, passing a weary-faced Brooke who smiled nervously in greeting. "They won't let me in." Jo frowned running a hand along the arm of the man she'd come to call 'brother' with all the affection it entailed.

"Not 'til the baby's born," he winced, hands on his hips as Meg screamed behind the door at the end of the hall. Jo's brow furrowed with worry at the note Meg ended on. She had not been like that last night. Jo let John go as she headed for the room, Brooke's heavy steps filling the eerie silence between the unholy wails of his wife.

Cracking the door open Jo peered inside and was met with the ghostly countenance of her sister nestled in the bed she last saw her in. Meg looked wild and broken as she gasped for air between the women around her bed – Jo hardly recognised her from the sister she'd left and she hurried in, forgetting the door her mother closed with a dark look.

"Meg," Jo breathed, kneeling at her sister's side, taking a pale hand between hers unflinchingly, even when the woman squeezed so hard she shook. "What has happened?"

"She's lost a lot of blood," her mother answered at Jo's look about the room. "Some time after you left we called for the doctor." Marmee's trembling hand found her shoulder as Jo looked on desperately at Meg.

"She'll be alright."

Her mother said nothing but the doctor spared a glance from his position at the end of the bed. Jo frowned at his brief communiqué over his spectacles and repeated herself. "She'll be alright."

Meg's cry tore through her.

"Won't she?"

The doctor cleared his throat and there was a bustle about the big bed as encouragements of "Almost dear", "Nearly there" and "Ya' bah-bee's comin'!" all came at once and Jo's grip went numb. She watched her sister in poorly masked confusion, the pretty blush of Meg's natural complexion looking like doll's rouge against her sweat-soaked brow.

Meg hollered once more and another smaller cry answered her at long last. A communal sigh went through the room and with tears down her face Meg asked in a voice as shaky as her smile, "Is it a boy or girl?"

Another cry replied and she strained to see the child but fell back against the mountain of pillows behind her, exhaustion claiming hold. Jo stood to see, Meg's hand still firmly in her, wondering at the stunned faces of the women around the doctor.

"You have a little mannie," she whispered with awe, collapsing on her knees at the feel of tears down her cheeks. She turned to Meg, kissing her hand as she beamed, "And a little lady dear Meg!"

"Twins," the doctor announced, handing the wrinkly red creatures over, one to Mrs. March and the other to Hannah as Lotty scrambled for the basin of water the doctor pointed at. Marmee carried her precious cargo to her firstborn – a smile softening the lines of worry across her brow. "Twins my dear."

Meg smiled dopily as she pulled her hand from Jo's to touch her son. "John Laurence." Hannah placed the girl in her mother's arms and Meg took a shaky breath. "Margaret." Both babies were nestled in her embrace and Jo thought the scene was sent straight out of a picture as she looked down at her sister, her hands clapped to her chest.

The doctor coughed again and Jo's mother whispered in her ear, "Take the babies to John." Jo turned to her bemused, shaken out of the spell created by nature's tenderness. "Follow Hannah, quickly now."

Jo frowned but took the little squealing boy looking across Meg to Hannah whose stern brow was not questioned. Stepping into the hall she met an impatient Amy and John whom she handed the baby to with a smile though she felt strange. "Your son, John Laurence."

John took the child with serious eyes, his face alight with the wonder of a new father. "Hello my man," he whispered as Amy fixed a blue ribbon on the blanket that covered the small chap. Hannah stepped in, her smile as wavering as Jo's though she meant the moment to be touching. "And this is ya wee Margaret, yer daughter."

John's expression would not soon be forgotten as he looked at the little girl in complete shock.

"Two!?" he laughed, amazement winning the brief battle of emotions in the narrow hall. Amy held up a pink ribbon with a short giggle, "I brought both not knowing which it would be!"

A sharp cry cut through the halls happy astonishment and Jo spun back to the door knowing her mother's voice anywhere. She ran into the room without breath spying in one look the doctor's closed eyes, the hand on her mother's open mouth and worst of all Meg's completely still form.

"No," her voice sounded as though it had been pulled out of her very soul as she fell by her sister's side, shaking her arms.

"Meg!"

Her mother's sob sliced through her heart and Jo couldn't breathe. Meg's eyes stared blankly out at the room and her lips were chalked silent. Amy gasped in the doorway with her limp ribbon and John fought to see in. Jo stepped back, feeling the ground spinning under her heels as she watched that horrible unblinking gaze, Meg's hands cold and empty reaching across the rosebud sheets speckled with scarlet not of dyed thread.

Jo pushed her way out of the room wanting to be as far from that sight as possible. She ran as the babies' cries filled her ears.


	5. Chapter 5

The door snicked shut when she gently let go. Jo shuffled her way across the floor picking out the furniture in what little light slipped through the curtains from the waxing moon. Stubbing her toe only once she finally made it to the bed feeling her heart climb into her throat for entirely different reasons.

There were so many rationalisations why she shouldn't have been there least of all her virtue but she suddenly found herself shy beside his bed. Trying hard not to breathe lest she make a sound Jo leaned across the bed to see if he was awake. Although his light had gone out no more than twenty-minutes earlier his eyes were closed and a gentle peace unlike anything she'd seen before on his well-known features had settled over her friend. Worried the long ends of her hair would tickle him awake just as she was having second thoughts; Jo pulled back and took a step away from the bed, twisting her hands behind her back.

It was too late to just leave but now that she was here and he looked so… well, he was not the teasing trickster, nor the serious, concerned young man or her laughing conspirator. He wasn't anything Jo recognised and she admitted to herself, wringing her hands, the desire to know this side of him was strong. It coiled in her belly, calling her heart down from its lofty heights where she felt sure it was broadcasting each thump for the naked ear to hear. She had come all this way and there was no way she was going back to her cold bed with ghostly fingers and thoughts of absent sisters.

She needed him. Jo repeated the thought in her head trying hard to forget everything else and she climbed onto the bed to lie beside him.

Laurie stirred and her heart hammered as he rolled onto his back. His eyes slipped open and she held her breath as they snapped awake in realisation that another person occupied his bed. There was one long tense minute where Jo felt the pulse of her entire being wait for him to say something and he waited to see if she was really there or some horrible trick of his dream.

"Jo?" he tried at last. She blinked back, pulling a hand under her cheek as she smiled sheepishly back. "Are you real?" he stage-whispered. Jo pulled herself onto her elbows trying not to laugh as she swatted him.

"Imagined me a lot in here, have you?" she scolded with a smile he'd rather see more of.

"You've no idea," he mumbled reaching closer to run a hand behind her ear and touch her loose hair. Jo frowned at that as expected and settled herself back down beside him, the new closeness warming her side by his. It felt right, like his arms had in the kitchen.

"What're you doing here?"

She looked at the pillow under her curled arms and he rolled onto his front looking down at her quizzically as she picked her nails.

"You were right."

Laurie's eyebrows rose at that but he said nothing.

"I don't want to be alone tonight, Teddy," she offered quietly in way of explanation. She took a shaky breath and his large warm hand found hers under the pillow. Turning over she held his hand to her lips before clutching it to her breast. He felt her heart skipping under her robe and dress and understood her contradictory behaviour a little better. She knew it the instant his eyes darkened and his thumb ran over hers.

"You-" his sentence broke under her worried gaze and he opted instead to kiss her. Leaning over her in the dark he touched his lips to hers feeling the weight of Jo's mistakes and fears behind her response. Jo's hands moved to his hair and he was not guilty for the sudden turn. She pressed her mouth hot against his, twisting her jaw higher to meet his own as he pushed her into the bed. "I'm sorry," she whispered between kisses that made her head spin. "I didn't mean – this is not – I didn't come for this," she finished at last when they broke for breath. Laurie rolled to the side again and Jo felt her lips sting in the cool air of the room as he thought he'd pushed her too hard again.

Jo curled herself to his side and Laurie turned his head to read her eyes in the sliver of moonlight that fell across the bed.

"I don't think I'll ever understand what you want from me Jo."

She wrapped an arm across his middle and squeezed.

"You say one thing and look another and then do the complete opposite!" Laurie whispered pulling at his hair as he watched the ceiling, unable to tear himself from her. Jo's brow worried against his shoulder. He sighed heavily, laying his arm over hers as he gave in, turning his neck to confess.

"I shouldn't have pushed you today." Jo buried her face against his side. "I worried myself sick when I cam home that I'd gone and lost you for good. That you would never speak to me again and I'd never be welcomed back. I've waited years, _years_ to hold you like that and then I went and– I'm a selfish brute, Jo."

Jo pulled her head up to watch him quietly.

"And yet here you are and I know I shouldn't expect your forgiveness but something tells me you've already given it though I don't half deserve it. I really am sorry Jo. I got carried away but I should've known better than to press you – on Meg's anniversary of all days. Do you? Forgive me?"

She considered his tortured look with her bitten lip. "I thought you didn't understand me when I pushed you away." She admitted, smiling wryly as he dragged a hand through her hair. Jo rested her chin on his chest and he thought nothing had felt more natural. "But I was wrong and to save us both the confusion; I promise not to fly at you again."

"Truly?" he sounded disappointed but Jo laughed quietly turning her cheek to his breast as it rose with each breath.

"You're not wholly to blame and I know I've been needy and selfish," she traced the buttons of his shirt unaware of the effect she was causing. "I haven't been very good to you, my boy, since… the babies. I know you've waited for your say but I ask you to wait a little longer. There are already two birthdays and one death to this day in May."

Laurie was silent but Jo could feel the pound of his heart under her palm and he pulled her closer kissing the crown of her head as he had so many years ago.

"It's easy enough to be perfectly happy with all that I have right here, my Jo." He kissed her again and she closed her eyes. "Now, go to sleep."


	6. Chapter 6

Jo sat by the sink where Hannah washed the pots. She aimlessly drew on the countertop with her fingertips as she held back another bout of tears. It felt as though all she could do was cry every minute of every hour.

The kitchen door opened and in crept Laurie, his face a perfect opposite of Jo's. "Where's the little Ma?" he asked Hannah in a loud whisper before he spotted Jo behind the older woman. Dressed in black looking as though someone had just cut her through Laurie's face fell and he froze in the doorway. Hannah dropped her saucepan and Jo pulled herself off the stool dreadfully serious.

"Meg's gone."

Laurie crossed the room in two paces and crushed the girl to him with an expression she would not soon forget. Hannah put a soapy hand on the tall boy's shoulder as Jo broke into painful sobs and he looked about wildly. "Jesus took her when she gave the bah-bees, dear child," she sniffed audibly, moving away to cover her face in the dishcloth.

Still in shock Laurie simply continued to hold Jo tightly as the girl wept. She clawed at his shoulder and he kissed her hair telling her to 'hold on, dear' as he had that awful night where Beth lay with the Fever.

"Grandfather said Meg had called you all down but he didn't say-" Laurie choked when Jo's last tears dried and she sat them down in the garden outside.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," she whispered "-she had twins, a boy and a girl." Jo plucked the long grass between the stones feeling as though everything had fallen apart.

"Twins," Laurie repeated still feeling entirely lost.

Silence settled over the pair and Jo could hear birds singing across the lane in the opposite fields. It felt wrong, it all felt wrong that everyone, every_thing_ had gone on as though it was any other day. Laurie was supposed to be greeted with the bundles of joy and her greatest smile but there was only grave quiet in the house behind them.

"I should have wrote you." Jo threw the grass at her feet, pulling her knees to her chest.

"I want – I wish I could have been here." He said, meaning 'there for you' without saying the words.

"I had the paper but-" Jo turned her head away from his, remembering the day she spent motionless locked in the garret while her sisters cried downstairs and her mother and father were out. She felt Laurie's hand on her back and silently took comfort as the sat on the steps and bees busied themselves around Meg's garden.

_AN/: Anything you recognise in this is from 'Domestic Experiences' which is lord knows what chapter in Little Women and definitely not mine. Also while I'm at it, would anyone be interested in reading Little Women comics if I made them?_


	7. Chapter 7

A hand brushed her cheek and Jo woke feeling warmer than she had in years. Pulling her eyes open she blinked across the toughest pillow she'd slept on. Memory filtering in like sand through a glass she slowly recalled where she was and who she was on.

"Goodness!" she sat bolt upright, hands on her chest.

"Well that's thanks," Laurie pulled his own hands under his head as he looked up at her with twinkling eyes. Jo frowned at his easy grin and carefully put a space between them, her mind waking to the way of the world and the situation she'd put herself in. although it _was_ rather good to see him smile so again.

"My parents!" she cried suddenly, scuttling off the bed, tying her gown tight around her. Leaping for the door she was stopped by a quicker hand.

"Jo, can't it wait?" she pulled her hand from his and opened the door with her face awash in worry.

Laurie laughed merrily as she stood only a step into the hallway realising she'd no way to leave without calling attention to herself. Finally taking pity on her he pulled her back in. "Come on, then."

"Oh," Jo sighed impatiently. She followed powerlessly as he dragged her to the window beside his dresser. Propping the frame open he helped her through, steadying the lattice as she descended as quick as she could without breaking her neck.

"Jo slowdown! It isn't a race!" he whispered loudly climbing out after her when she glared up at him from the ground. Jumping off the white vine-crawler he faced her cross look with a grin.

"Well I'd rather not get caught!" she whispered smacking his arm when he laughed, passing her to head for the fence.

Both jumped easily across from much practice and Laurie led the way to the tree that stood tall against the side of Jo's house. "Up you go," he said lifting her up without warning to the closest branch. Jo shrieked in surprise before clamping her mouth shut as she grabbed the tree and hooked her ankle over the branch she gripped. Laurie followed her up with a cheeky smile but she'd as soon as wiped it off his face than thank him for the leg-up and so they climbed on to the garret window.

Laurie wedged the window open and held it so as he placed a hand on Jo's back when she scrambled through, thinking not when his hand slipped lower at her bent knee. Sparing him one last glare she shut the window in his face though he waited for a kiss. Undeterred he grinned widely and waved before making the climb down in his long-johns.

"Incorrigible," she mumbled heading for the garret door hoping her parents slept heavily and a little later than usual.


	8. Chapter 8

It was another Saturday but to Jo the date meant little as she sat by her sister's stone swatting the ground with a long stick of grass wheat. She looked out across the river below under the low-hanging willows that covered Meg's grave in silent shade. The sun was dancing across the long shimmering snake of water that stretched past Jo's line of sight and in its peaceful elegance she knew Meg's smile. Scoffing at her poetic foolishness she slapped the grass again and whispered to Meg that she 'missed her was all and that was the cause of all this pretty considerable lollygagging.' Jo nudged the headstone as a shoulder, choking down a sob as she thought of Meg's shawls. She'd folded them with her mother last Monday and the delicate scent that had filled her nose had all but brought Meg back for one short second. They now lay in a box in the room her babies were to live.

Jo struck the ground, twisting her long-stretched legs restlessly as she told her sister about the twins. "Laurie did it my girl and saved your mannie from being a 'Jack'. He's Demi to your Daisy for it weren't right having two Megs, you see?" They couldn't replace the squalling baby with the beloved woman who slept under the soil.

"I don't suppose you'd like to hear about Daisy catching Amy's finger for the day?" Jo paused though no answer would ever come. "Well our littlest aunt is your daughters new favourite though I changed her for a whole week. 'Spose it's only right for she's a little lady even with all her gurgling and Amy's always known how to have manners and take tea. Oh, Demi does throw a good arm and he kicks something fierce when he's hungry. I think he'll be a fighting man when he's on two feet though I don't reckon that's all too respectable for a son of yours and we shall make a preacher out of him yet Meg, don't you fret."

Jo swiped the wheat across her face as the flies came by and she squinted. She hated thinking too far ahead now and picturing the little grumpy Demi as a grown man with beard and height simply _hurt_ knowing Meg would never see it.

"I'm sorry, Meg dear," she said uselessly if only to tear her mind from her thoughts. "I'm not terribly charming company. I'm sure Beth would be a better gossip for homely things – she always has the best stories of home; I'm only good for the fancying and the romance."

"She'll come tomorrow I think. Wasn't up to the walk today. I think she's taking ill again," Jo whispered the last part not to Meg's grave but the front of her pinafore. Beth hadn't been the same these past two weeks and Jo knew it owed to her eldest sister's sudden passing. She worried that all that time at the sea had gone to nothing when Beth's eyes followed her so solemnly about the room from her bed.

Everything had changed.

Jo hated the spring.


	9. Chapter 9

Jo peered around the door before she tip-toed her way down the stairs to the hall. The floorboards creaked under her feet and she cringed at the noise just as her mother appeared at the landing, waiting by Jo's bedroom door.

"Jo dear did you sleep in the garret again?" Mrs March asked, shifting the basket she carried on her hip.

"Mhm," Jo nodded vaguely with a tight smile, trying to slip past her mother unable to lie outright to such an honest-expecting face.

"Wait," Marmee put an arm out before Jo could make her hasty retreat. She blinked back at her mother's odd look of appraisal as the older woman scanned her up and down. "Hannah's setting breakfast and the babies need their milk."

Jo smiled again and her mother let her pass. "I'll be right down," she said closing the door as her mother went into Amy's room to freshen the sheets. Hitting her head on the back of the bedroom door Jo sighed at her narrow escape. How had her mother almost caught her in the last stretch she didn't know but looking around her room in the morning light she didn't feel nearly so threatened as she had the night before. Beth's dolls grinned vacantly at the walls and the yellow paint coloured a gentle glow across the furniture.

"Really it's quite harmless," Jo frowned at herself before she kicked off the door and went for her dresses. Looking down at her night clothes she found to her horror a rather conspicuous amount of leaves caught in the tiny rips of her gown.

"Oh no," she moaned, pulling the greenery from her cotton dress, catching a twig when she ran a hand through her hair in consternation. Her mother had surely seen these.

Unable to do anything else Jo shirked her nightclothes for a day dress, this time one with a crinoline. She would at least be presentable as punishment for her complete lapse in judgment. Tying the netted skirt around her waist she pulled the petticoats over her head and then slipped on her usual camisole. The skirt came next and Jo settled on a cream blouse that covered as much of her neck as possible. She felt ridiculously overdressed in contrast to yesterday's loose-waisted dress that touched her ankles but Jo was determined to feel human again and normality was in wide skirts and conservative collars, not in best-friend's beds and childish comforts. Jo pulled her hair into its net and pricked herself several times before she appeared before Hannah with Daisy in her arms and Demi on her hip asking for bottles and a spare hand.

An hour later Jo sat on the carpet in the front parlour trying her darndest to patch Demi's trousers as the twins crawled around her grabbing with grubby hands anything that caught their interest. Jo laughed when she saw Demi's prize of a mothball before snatching the dangerous item up.

"Now how did you find this?"

Demi squealed his protest before a particularly shiny brass sofa-leg caught his attention and he bumbled off calling, "Mine Jo!" Jo shook her head at a loss for the strange things toddlers found and swiftly rescued a rag-doll's head from Daisy's mouth.

"That's not for chewing dear," she said pulling the soft-stuffed head out of Daisy's chomping jaw. Daisy had other ideas and she hurried off with her waddling walk under Demi's sofa's arm to chew her doll in peace repeating her brother's call of "Mine! Mine!" Thwarted Jo simply frowned and went back to her sewing. "Fine, do as you please!"

"Spoiling the children Jo March! Well I never!"

Jo twisted to see Laurie leaning against the doorframe mocking her in a very old impression.

"It's hardly fair you get to spoil them and I must always set things right," she complained as he moved to sit beside her on the floor. "Really Teddy, you'd let them commit murder if I had my back turned even for a second."

"Ha!" he cried, digging his elbow into her side. "Quite fairly with all you nagging, young miss." Jo glared at him when his movement upset her finger and she pricked herself with the needle.

"Well someone has to provide a moral compass when you're so decidedly against anything that isn't letting them have their own way."

"Brave words for someone who's letting Daisy chew her way through the fourth doll. Shall we set this old argument away? I fear your fingers are baring the brunt again," Laurie took her hand, frowning at the tiny marks across them. "Looking at this I'd think you'd never sewn anything in your life."

Jo swatted him and took her hand back when his tease turned tender. She pulled them off the ground, depositing her needlework on a high table edge away from little searching hands. Each took a child and sat on the sofa, Laurie bouncing his knees much to Demi's entertainment.

"I thought you liked my patchwork."

"Never said otherwise, only your fingers don't agree with the business."

"Pooh, I pricked myself with my hairpins is all," Jo explained as she held Daisy's hands in hers. It seemed all the twins liked to do was touch and grab and pull and paw of late. Laurie looked over at the offending pins in his companion's hair behind the hand Demi stuck on his face.

"Thought you looked different," he said quietly and not without a little displeasure.

Jo bristled at his tone and informed him quite firmly it was hardly anything out of the ordinary and why should it matter at any rate? "You're over early," she said by way of changing the topic.

Laurie pulled Demi off him, sitting the toddler on his knee at an easier distance. When Jo met his eyes she knew what was coming and stood quickly mumbling about the apples she meant to stew. Catching Laurie's odd look she let Daisy back down on the carpet and hurried to the kitchen wondering what made her hands shake when she reached for her pinafore.

"Don't you want to know why?" Laurie's breath ghosted across her shoulder an instant later and she turned to find him closer than expected.

"I-"

"Laurie! You've come early today," Mrs March startled the pair and Laurie stepped back to greet the woman warmly. She embraced the boy, sending her daughter that same look from earlier over his back.

"I hope you don't mind but I thought Jo could use a hand today. We're stewing apples," he added with a wicked look over his shoulder at Jo who stood as red as a tomato.

"Aren't you kind," Mrs March smiled, patting the tall boy's arm as she reached between them into the closet for a broom. "See that she doesn't use the salt this time," she added for Laurie's ears which made the fellow smile to himself.

"Help me with this, won't you?" Jo put her arms through the pinafore as her mother gave her one last all-knowing look that left Jo mystified as her boy tied a decent knot.

"That should do it," he said, smoothing out the material across her shoulder when she watched her mother depart through the front door. Turning back to Laurie she frowned at his lingering hands and took off without digress to the backyard.

"Jo," he hurried after her and she fumed at her sudden jitters. Really hadn't she told him to wait just last night?

"Bring a basket," she called behind her halfway across the lawn, her hooped skirt swirling in wake as she carried on with the charade of finding apples in spring. She had to get a hold of herself before he had a chance to turn the world on its head again. And everything had been going so well until yesterday.

_A/N: hey guys just a question, do you use 'backyard' in America? It just sounds really aussie to me when I say it but that could be coz everything sounds like that… I dunno I use it a lot in these stories and I don't even know if you have a different term._

_Oh! Also I did a picture that kinda relates to this story but you'll have to backspace the spaces in the address (also I hate how I drew Laurie but I couldn't get him how I wanted): http:// .com /art/ Grief-126894596_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: sorry im not updating nearly enough lately, but I've been sick for the past week (oh food allergies I heart you not) and everyone seems to be born around this time so parties are all the rage though I keep missing them from being ill. Yayness anyway here's a very short update that I've had written awhile on paper - soz_

…

"Are you sure?"

Laurie had found Jo on her way back from the little cemetery just as she walked down the slope past the Tinwell's house. He was now walking with her tearing a rather innocent flower in his hands as Jo avoided his prodding questions.

"Mhm. If you want to worry think of the other girls. Amy hasn't even looked at her pencils and Beth is caught in bed. I don't know what we shall do if she doesn't cheer herself soon; her health is so delicate."

Laurie took Jo's hand at the note of true fear in her voice. Jo smiled in thanks and they continued down the road, mindless of the tittle-tattling women watching them pass in interest.

"Oh but everything will be fine, in time, I've no doubt." Jo said attempting to throw some optimism into the conversation though she didn't sound nearly as convinced as she'd hoped.

Laurie remained silent and Jo was thankful that he remained such a stalwart figure when her composure lapsed – never altogether shot though, Jo made sure of that after his first return for she couldn't bare the tearing look across his bonny face as he watched her fall apart. It left her feeling exposed when she'd dried her tears and had her fill of sadness and his comfort. She would never truly get over Meg's passing but Jo had no intention of revealing it to her friend though he sort to know.

Still, it was rather nice to feel his hand in hers or her head on his shoulder every now and then.

"Have you sent Jenny Walker any posies this week?" Jo asked, pulling her hand from his when they turned at the bend. Laurie frowned at her before pulling the last petal off his daisy.

"I've stopped all that, Jo." Said Laurie in a voice Jo'd rather not have heard.

"I suppose all that studying is wearing you thin; honest Teddy your shirt don't half fit you and I wonder if I should be ashamed to be seen with you almost half-dressed," she teased with a smile not as bright as it had been in April. Laurie looked down at the shirt that _did_ hang rather loosely before he threw the remaining stalk to the road and buried his hands in his pockets. Well if he didn't feel self-conscious!

"Study will do that to a fellow. Be a saint and take my arm Jo? I'm weak with exhaustion!" he offered slyly now that his hands were unoccupied and the conversation's attention had fallen on him. Jo frowned at that but threaded her arm through his as they strolled on towards home.

"I'm glad you've finished with that nonsense," she said at last, careful not to meet that increasingly intense gaze. Jo's cheeks coloured against her will and she couldn't help but feel it would give her boy the wrong idea – she was only flushed from the exercise, Jo insisted to herself, crossly shoving her free hand into her pinafore pocket.

"Me too," Laurie spoke with a finality that lasted the rest of the somewhat awkward trip home.


End file.
